Friday's set at the Acura Stage renewed my appreciation of the lil' ol' band from Texas.

Maybe it was the sight of my 67-year-old mother-in-law, born in Dallas and raised in Fort Worth, standing in a puddle wearing her daughter's Tevas, gleefully dancing the "north Texas push" during "Legs."

Or maybe ZZ Top's brand of boogie is best enjoyed in a muddy field, under steel gray skies, when the fact that they performed at all was something of a minor miracle.

Years ago, a cigarette company sponsored a series of semi-private concerts that, by law, could not be advertised. Admission was via "points" earned from buying smokes.

Predictably, attendance was dismal. I saw progressive country band the Mavericks, then at the height of their fame, with 10 other people in Slidell. At Tipitina's, Cheap Trick invited the sparse crowd to join in onstage.

I expected comparably small crowds at Jazzfest following Friday's mid-afternoon monsoon. Sure enough, only a few dozen diehards greeted Paulette Wright & Volume of Praise at the Gospel Tent.

But the Blues Tent was nearly full. And lo and behold, thousands of rockers ringed the mini-lakes that pooled in front of the Acura Stage for ZZ Top.

Lesson of the day: Never underestimate the fortitude and show-must-go-on determination of Jazzfest staffers.

And if you open the gates, they will come.

When ZZ Top last performed at the UNO Lakefront Arena in June 2003, I was less than impressed. It felt like a rote recital, with the amplifiers cranked to 11.

But Friday's set at the Acura Stage renewed my appreciation of the lil' ol' band from Texas.

Maybe it was the sight of my 67-year-old mother-in-law, born in Dallas and raised in Fort Worth, standing in a puddle wearing her daughter's Tevas, gleefully dancing the "north Texas push" during "Legs."

Or maybe ZZ Top's brand of boogie is best enjoyed in a muddy field, under steel gray skies, when the fact that they performed at all was something of a minor miracle.

Gibbons' nonchalance is either the ultra-cool demeanor of a man in total command of his craft, or a guy on autopilot. At UNO, I assumed it was the latter.

But this time, it felt more like the former. Especially when, in mid-solo, Gibbons' guitar tech lit the cigar poking out of his boss's beard, and Gibbons didn't miss a lick.

They managed to kick some life into old songs. "Jesus Just Left Chicago" fell away to drummer Frank Beard's unflappable pulse, as Gibbons barked ad-libs. The band dirtied up the mediocre latter-day anthem "Pincushion." "Pearl Necklace" received a beneficial makeover.

Gibbons might have glanced over his shoulder and noticed Tony Joe White carving up the Blues Tent with scary hoodoo blues guitar. Whatever his inspiration, Gibbons absolutely crushed the slide guitar in "Just Got Paid." He chiseled hearty slow blues solos as Hill took a turn on the microphone. "Under Pressure" rocked. So did "Gimme All Your Lovin'." The trio tore into the final "Tush" as if playing it for only the 100th time, not the 2,000th.

As the soggy crowd streamed toward the exits, the fatigue written across the faces of two Jazzfest staffers spoke to the day's challenges. But they perked up when they encountered a krewe of "Jazzfest triathletes" in green T-shirts.

As per their custom, the "triathletes" had run around the entire Fair Grounds track, fortified by an adult beverage or six. At the conclusion of the Gangbe Brass Band at the Jazz & Heritage Stage, they "sacrificed" and devoured a watermelon.

Then they marched toward the Sauvage Street exit, bound for a swim across Bayou St. John.

Even with all the water at Jazzfest yesterday, some folks still wanted more.